


The Tree

by magma_maiden



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magma_maiden/pseuds/magma_maiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No material profit gained from this fanfic. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Human name Kyle Kirkland used for Australia. Might edit later... maybe. Scribbled stuff about Australia forgetting an old friend. EDIT: ending has been edited a little.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> No material profit gained from this fanfic. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Human name Kyle Kirkland used for Australia. Might edit later... maybe. Scribbled stuff about Australia forgetting an old friend. EDIT: ending has been edited a little.

Red and black. Rock and dust. Laid bare under the Sun for centuries unnumbered. Waters above shied away from the intense heat long ago. It flowed freely inside the Crust, only showed up wherever it wants to, carving paths down from the mountains to the valleys and to the edges of the Earth. Animals roamed freely far and wide. Each of them knew where to find water and food, thanks to him.

He was the land, manifested in flesh and blood. Unlike the animals, the light of the Sun didn't burn him. It strengthened him, it gave him life. He knew where the great barren red ended in many waves of blue. He knew the oldest dust and the first drop of water. Many names he bore, many places he explored. Even though he befriended all sorts of animals, he felt lonely. He had learned how to understand them, but he was not one of them. He longed for a friend who had no scales, furs or feathers.

The feathery ones told him about a fertile land up north, green plains and dense jungles as wide as the Sky above. He only knew that there was a river so great separating him from those fertile lands. In the days of old, mighty lizards crossed the river and never came back. He wondered if he could find them there. So he went on a journey alone to the unknown north.

The journey was long and exhausting, but rarely he stopped if not for resting. He arrived early before sunrise, feeling devastated at seeing the river now had grown even wider. How's he going to cross it? What lies beyond was not him anymore; it was someone else. He could feel it - he didn't know how, but the feeling was real. He wanted to go, there must be someone, someone like him who had no scales, furs and feathers--

The Sun crept up, clearing morning mists from his view. Then he saw it, a tall tree standing on a tiny island on the river. He didn't have that kind of tree in his land; so tall with many big branches. Beyond the island, still covered in mists, was silhouette of similar trees grew so dense from east to west. Then, he saw something jumped down from the lonely tree. At first he thought it was an animal, but it wasn't. The figure stood on two feet, had two arms and no visible tail from this distance.

Something told him that the figure was the tree, the tiny island where it's standing at, the endless row of trees shrouded in mist far ahead and the great things that lies beyond his vision. Similar to him; the land that stretched far behind was him, and he was that land.

It seems that the figure across the river was calling for him,

So without thinking, he jumped into the great river and swam. His tired legs protested, but he wouldn't return now that he had come this far. Yet the current was stronger than him, and his scaly friends couldn't help him return to the surface. Here in this unknown water, the scaly creatures were strangers to him, despite bearing similarities in their shapes and behavior. His arms hurt. His chest hurt. He needed air. He needed to stop and breathe.

This wasn't the first time he almost crossed the line of death, but this was different. He was safe in his land, his rivers, his deserts. He needed help, but his friends were not here--

A shadow above the water approached and pulled him up. A soft voice scolded him as he landed on a wooden surface, coughing saltwater. Said voice was belonged to another being like him: scaleless,fur-less, featherless. Her features were softer, her eyes and face were round. Her hair was dark and long, reaching her back.

"It's dangerous, swimming like that!"

He was greeted by a scowl, but he didn't mind it. He was glad he found what he sought. A girl was sitting before him. She looked neither older or younger than him.

"What were you trying to do? You didn't even have a boat!"

He vaguely realized that they were in a small wooden vessel, driven south by the wind. But he paid no mind to that. "I was looking for a friend," he said, smiling as bright as the Sun that now shines above their heads. "A friend that looks like me. You."

The scowl disappeared. She moved her long hair from her face. "I was looking for you, too."

* * *

 

What brought her there were his friends on the sea floor. The sea cucumbers. After he granted his permission to catch them in his waters, she would come every year to catch several and preserve them. While waiting for the wind to change its course, they spent time together, enjoying each other's company.

She came from the north. Instead of one great land, she was a thousand islands, big and small, linked together by several seas. Mountains and hidden valleys, rivers and old lakes. Like him, she bore so many names, yet none was truly hers. They shared songs, paintings and numerous tales: of red-scorched Earth and lush jungles so dense that even sunlight couldn't reach the jungle floor.

"Are there any lizards?" he asked one day. They were resting after spending a whole day on the sea for fishing. She had been telling him about her friends, the ones with scales, furs and feathers.

"Yes there are," she answered, "big and small. Mostly they stay in trees."

"How about the big ones?"

"The biggest one is thiiiis big..." the girl spread her arms wide. "Oh, even wider than this! They eat humans!"

Sometimes she told him about the coming coldness from the west. "They arrive in wooden vessels far bigger than mine." But whenever he asked for more details, she ended her story. He only felt that she didn't know more than she had said; after all, they were friends, so why would she lie to him? Nevertheless, he did want to know more about it.

He was curious about them. "Do you think I'll be able to see those vessels?"

"I doubt it. Your land is too hot for them."

The wind she had been waiting for eventually arrived. She would use it to sail home, and he would not see her again until many months later. "But I will return," she always told him that. "Or if you can't wait, meet me on that lonely island." That's how things went for decades. Their friendship flourished even though they lived far from each other.

The Moon waxed and waned slowly this year. He had made numerous gifts for the girl to pass the time, but he grew more impatient every day passed. He sang her songs, admired her gifts from the distant lands and recounted her stories. Nothing could help lifting the loneliness from his heart.

One day, he felt terribly lonely, so he went to make a boat like the one she used to go to his land. There were two moon phases left before the wind changed its course, yet he couldn't sit still anymore.

She wasn't in the lonely island when he arrived. Somehow he felt worried, he wondered if something bad happened to her. Weeks passed by, but even though the wind had changed to the south he still saw no boats heading to his land. The wind itself felt different.

It was colder. Not because of the naturally lower temperature from where the wind came, but because of something else. Malice. Danger. Things that made him afraid.

He wanted to sail even more north, but the wind blew to the wrong direction. He barely had any knowledge about her house. Where was exactly she lived? He might ended on a wrong island.

Finally, a boat showed up in the distance. It was her, it was his friend, yet there was something that looked strange on her expression. Her smiles were weak, her laughter faked. Her body looked thinner, and her eyes seem hollow. He also noticed that her clothes were more tattered and weather-worn.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but she only shook her head and began to climb the tree.

"Come with me."

He grabbed the lowest branch and pulled himself up, ignoring the questions he had in his head. Now isn't the time for that. They didn't speak while climbing, and she didn't stop until she reached the tallest branch that could support their weight. She sat, then pointed her finger far to the north. "Look," she asked him. "Look past my trees."

Even though they were far from the great jungle, he could see that the trees didn't look as healthy as decades ago. The leaves were green, but the green showed sickness. Beyond them, he couldn't see anything but whiteness so thick and wide, expanding even wider than the jungle itself. It wasn't a giant cloud.

"They are erasing everything," he heard her speaking. Confused, he leaned closer to her branch.

"Who are they?"

"The Cold." Her voice sounded strange, as if her ever present cheerfulness had gone. "The Cold That Burns."

"How does coldness burn...?" She ignored his question and kept looking north. He tried calling her using several of her names, and her response shocked him,

"They say those aren't my name anymore."

"What--"

Fire spread in the distance, consuming everything in its path. Soon the horizon was lit in red and orange, and grey smoke was rising above the jungle like a fog.

"I can't stop them," she spoke again. The strands of her hair started to emanate a burning smell. "They have taken things I hold dearly." She turned her head, finally averting her gaze from the burning trees. "Don't let them get you too."

He was speechless. "Then go with me, I'll keep you safe in my land! That way they won't be able to erase... to erase you!" He still didn't understand why the white cold burned her trees and stole her names, but there's no way he wouldn't help his dearest friend. "I'll fight them when they got too close!"

"I tried that too," she stared at her hands. "I've shed my own blood and theirs, but the Cold is endless. They keep coming." She looked at him again, her expression turned more serious. "But I can't go with you. I must stay in my land."

"But the Cold... you'll get killed..."

"I know that's not their intention. I'll be broken, but I'll survive." Her voice was calm and firm, every syllable pronounced clearly.

"Just go with me," he tugged her sleeve. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"It's too late, it's too late." She pulled her hand away from his reach. "You have a bigger chance to survive, to stay as yourself than me. Go!"

"But--"

"GO!"

The girl before him looked similar to the friend he remembered, but she wasn't her. There was no kindness in it. Just the blunt, harsh truth of her wish to see him gone. It hurt him; he wanted to drag her down; he wanted her to stay as herself, safe in his land with him. But that would be futile if her lands were lost, right? The realization sank its teeth in his heart, forcing him to understand and surrender.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

She stayed silent, but the hands that gripped her worn clothes were trembling. He didn't want her to yell at him again, so he placed something colorful on her lap.

"I-it's for you - for your hair. Don't let them burn you." And then he fled.

The girl sat motionless long after the boy left, holding his gift. "I won't let them," she whispered, attaching the flower shaped pin on her burnt hair.

* * *

 

Never in his life he ran that fast.

The boy went to warn all his friends; they had to run if they see the Coldness coming with their vessels. Yet in every direction he could see them coming; their vessels approaching with wide white sails. He knew they were looking for him.

So he ran and ran and ran. But their hands reached far and wide, turned every rocks and swam through every rivers. He wasn't safe even in his lands. Eventually he ran out of hiding place, and they found him. They forced him to sit in the same place everyday, listen to the same thing everyday and learn about the same thing everyday.

They forced him to become like them. To act, to dress, to speak like them.

The only relief he had was the fact that he could see the lonely tree from the place where he had to sit everyday. Whenever he felt sad, worried or afraid, he would stare at the tree and remember his promise to see his friend again.

He would return and she would meet him there.

He would return to the island.

He would return.

* * *

 

 

Yet many decades later, when Kyle Kirkland stared at the tree far in the north, he wondered why he yearned to go there. Kyle didn't remember why that place held a significant meaning for him. He was the same land still, but Coldness had took him. Changed him. Shaped him into someone different. Said tree was never a part of him, so he paid no mind.

One day, a woman came from the north looking for him. Kyle saw her waiting under a tree, shielding herself from the glaring sun. She looked familiar, but as far as Kyle Kirkland could remember he never seen someone like her in his land. So Kyle approached her. "Hello." He couldn't tell what, but there was something familiar in the way she turned her head, the way she smiled and how she returned his greeting with a word that sounded like--

"Yolngu!"

It rang aloud in his mind. Yet all he did was standing before her, blinking in confusion. Why she called him with a name that he barely recognize? He scratched the back of his head. "My name is Kyle. Kyle Kirkland, miss. Have we met before...?"

The smile on the woman's face faded slowly, then she looked away, briefly touching the flower pin on her ponytail. "...I don't think so. Sorry, I mistook you for someone else. Please excuse me."

Kyle swore he saw tears ran on her cheeks. "Miss, please wait--" but she left already. She ran and disappeared in the crowds.

He couldn't explain why the hairpin she wore looked very familiar. As if he had made it himself long, long ago... before he was Kyle Kirkland.


End file.
